Sworded Tales

I walk with the devil in my dreams. Shattered shoals and twisted windows and breezes of sulfur and pine recede across a pillow case warmed by daylight. These journeys do not frighten. Nightmares are for those who do not relish the trip. They are dreams, and they are often forgotten. Yet on occasion, the psyche’s grip is stronger, and a window into another world is left open, if only a crack.

Life challenges us with mundane hurdles, but those cracks in our unfettered minds paint a mural that is primal with promise. Dismissal of those fleeting vistas is abhorrent. Such a unique glimpse into another world must be cherished and fostered–and above all else–shared. How often do you get to soar with eagles, or dance with shadows, or masquerade with the dead?

Gather your dreams. Confront your nightmares. Understand that each is a gift beyond measure, a sensational voyage that will happen only once. Such appreciation–for creativity, for imagination, for that magical thread that is drummed out of us–can do nothing but enliven the passage of time between dreams. Shouldn’t your waking hours overflow with such wonder?

Go ahead. Stick your fingers in that crack and open it a little further. Find something in yourself that wasn’t there yesterday. I can think of no better dream.